Spiders Don't Lie
by SilverUmbra
Summary: I lived my life only because I could, I breathed because I had lungs, not because I loved doing it. Yet you- the god of death- made the last moments of my life worth living. AriadosxGiratina


_**Hey! :D Well, school's been a jerk so I haven't have time to write very much. I have been working on this, for a while, actually, but I finally finish :D Yay. It's really strange, the result of listening to some Ludo fun, so... expect angst, I suppose. New pairing, Ariados(F)Giratina(M), whoot.  
FIC!  
**_

* * *

It is by chance that we meet.

There aren't that many Pokemon that live in the harsh, misty climate that is Sendoff Spring, and those who do are moody and glum, raised to be wary of everything and everyone, as it is literally a world where you had to kill or be killed. The constant torrent of rain is constantly a source of more woes, and I find myself snapping my mandibles together as each sheet of water rips my artistic threads to shreds every time- which would then continue the already sickeningly revolving circle of repairing what was broken every day, only to have it break again.

So much like _you_.

Before I met you, I had never thought much of the so called 'Gods' that apparently ran the world I was 'blessed' to live in, nor had I had any envy to meet one. I had never thought about who made the rain fall, who made the wind blow, who created life and who took it away- all things that I faced on a daily basis. Not once did I think there was someone somewhere weaving threads together into the hardships that made life so difficult to live and death so easy to attain; and I sneered easily at the thought of someone controlling something as powerful, bitter and cruel as the ever painful Fate.

And then _you_.

I was once again weaving my silver, labyrinthine pattern against the drab colors of the forest when you come barreling past, nearly crushing me under your immense wait, easily ripping my hard work into nothing more than a bundle of sterling strings like a puppet torn from guilty hands. As you stop short to paw the sticky floss away from your golden crested face I simply watch, deep black eyes narrowed into slits, even as I quickly scurry to attempt to repair what is torn to delicate fragments of what once was- wary of the red, gray, black and gold _thing _that had caused such chaos.

"Why..." I then start, and your gold and gray face turns slowly to acknowledge me in a familiar manner of a sunflower turning to the sun. I don't flinch under your carmine gaze, even though I have the knowledge that you could kill me instantly with not an ounce of trouble at all. "Why?" I repeat twice, louder and calmer than before- not sure as to why I would call attention to myself. Curiosity, perhaps?

No, that is silly.

It is too dangerous to be curious.

Your own eyes seem to glimmer with something I don't recognize, and I turn my own black gaze to the silver threads beneath my gold and sapphire legs, carefully weaving them into the every changing pattern that I melded them as. I didn't think of you to respond, and I don't know why I would talk in the first place. I was surprised I even knew how, since there is never anyone around to actually talk to.

Usually.

"I... don't know." Your voice is soft, uncertain and afraid, like a child who was asked a question that was too deep for their undeveloped minds. Interestingly enough, this makes more sense than anything else- and I only turn my violet head to look at you, then the silver lines underneath me, the sun making them glimmer like gentle moonbeams. Your words are simple, to the point and understandable for the question I had muttered from the depths of my own body. Why was indeed an impossible question to answer, god or not.

So when ebony eyes go to look at the spot between the trees and see nothing, I am not surprised.

* * *

"Gods don't interact with mortals."

You say this every time you come by, before you allow your huge weight to ease itself to the soft, damp grass that covers the ground of the forest- like it is something you had to state to everyone that you met- which wasn't many at all. When you appear, this time silently and without tearing my web to shreds, I am once again fixing my home from the recent night of torrential downpour- as always. So when you mutter these words with a tired and broken soul, I can only switch my black gaze to you, never pausing from my constant weaving.

Just as you say those five words with that crushed heart, I always reply the same, with a voice that should be like yours, but isn't.

"There are no such gods."

Somehow, though it should hurt to hear such things from me, you seem to feel much better from my bitterness and satire, as you now allow your black, red-spiked wings to fold against your broad back. Haunting red eyes shift to look at the lines of sterling that I balance on, and they are filled with the hesitancy of a shy child before he speaks. Once again, it would not be the sort of look that you would expect from such a large and intimidating creature, but at the same time, it fits.

"Is it true that spiders never lie?"

There comes a snap, a thread breaks, as I had pulled too roughly on such a weak structure, before my black eyes turn to look at you, obviously puzzled by such a ridiculous question. "Even if I said it was, how would you know if I was lying or not?" I then inquire, as gold and blue legs bind another line into the pattern. Your small head lowers in thought, red eyes closing- before opening again.

"You don't seem like the kind that would lie."

"Then I don't, if it is what you wish to believe."

This seems to satisfy you for an unknown reason, and I can only tilt my head slightly in puzzlement at your strange reasoning. The long spines on my back shift in the damp breeze that sluggishly trails through the air, causing even the tattered, ghostly membranes of your own bat-like wings to move with life. How interesting you look, with that dull gray that clashes angrily with the red of your stripes and the gold of your encrusted chest and head. You have just as many legs as I do, only they are thick and sturdy, as opposed to the delicate length that mine happen to be.

"Then... can I ask another question?" It is amusing to think that such a high ranked legend would ask for permission from a lowly spider such as myself, but I only click my mandibles together in an Ariados' way of nodding. You seem grateful, if just for a moment, before that blank look takes over your face again. "Do you have a name?"

This question- just like the other- surprises me, and another line of silver web snaps under the tightening of one gold and blue leg- a reminder that even I didn't know everything. It is humbling.

"Do I have a name..." I murmur under my breath, thinking it over, as if it is a question I learned the answer to long ago and can't yet remember the correct reply. You watch from your spot between those two shadowy trees, red eyes glistening in expectation. Your fleeting curiosity soon dulls at my retort. "No. I don't."

Just as your mood darkens, so does the sky, which turns from its clear blue-gray to a dull and painful purple-black. The thick gray slug of your tail twitches in the wet grass as yet another torrent of rain starts- the light drizzle just the first step to an apocalyptic downpour. I am tired of the rain, and I'm tired of fixing my web after it, but I still do, for reasons deeper than just genetics.

"Should I?" I continue, feeling the need to explain myself- something that has come with your arrival into my life. "There is no one permanent in my life to call my name anyway. So what is the point?" Your head- too small for your thick neck- tilts down in thought, red eyes closing like they always do. It's just one of those things I notice about you. Though I have only talked with you twice, I can easily tell that you aren't like them- you are no longer a proud god that is filled with boasting of power, as you have mellowed from something- though I don't know exactly what.

Why you have stopped by again is an enigma to me, a sliver of mystery that I can ponder, even after you disappear into the shadows with that terrifying grace like a predatory cat stalks prey. Perhaps you are lonely, and seek company in even a sadistic, bitter spider like myself- I am not sure. While it should irk me- Ariados are a solitary species- the conversations, however confusing, are a nice addition to my life of spinning, sleeping and feeding. Of course I don't say this, even as silence falls and black eyes shift to look at your bulk.

But once again, you are already a shadow against the twin trees.

* * *

"You're dying."

You appear, silently as always, slinking into the faded, weary sunlight with grace despite your heavy body, framed by the warm oranges and reds of the autumn leaves. Those tattered wings come to fold behind your back, thick tail resting against your gray side. The golden mask perked on your small head glints lethally, and red orbs glimmer with strange naivety I do not expect. There are so many ways that light can catch against your being, despite the darkness you- as well as I- shield in.

At your words, I look up.

Puzzled.

"I can feel it... every day." You continue, explaining yourself quickly, drearily- head going to look at the pale stretch of pale blue-gray above us."I feel how your soul is slowly tugging towards the maw of Turnback Cave." Gray shoulders shudder frailly despite their muscle, and your eyes refuse to meet mine- like a child that has done something wrong. While I muse over this new information my blue and gold legs continue their weaving, purple body shifting against silver threads.

You have visited every day, at the same time without fail since the spring- and it is routine now to talk for hours about various things, or even stay in silence, enjoying the company of the other. It's ridiculous that I look forward to your visits now, but I won't deny it. There is no point in lying to myself.

"Fine." I finally say.

You look at me in disbelief.

"Aren't you angry?" Your voice is confused, your short snout is gaping. "Don't you hate me?"

Mandibles twitch, my version of a shrug. "No. Why should I?" Another line is weaved into the glistening map against the gray background. "I am of the Ariados species. We simply do not live very long. I accept that." You are still surprised and confused, but at least you aren't completely lost anymore. I can't help but be amused with your reaction to my simple explanation.

"B-but..."

"I'm dying." I repeat, black eyes unconcerned. "I've been dying every day of my life. I've seen horrific things that not even a spider should see, I've done things that no one should ever do." The lines of silver beneath me sing soft in the breeze like a ghostly harp of the imagination, as if humming the tune of my life. "I've lived my life to prove that I can, and it's been awful. Death is fine to me. It's actually the one thing I look forward to."

This is too much for you, as carmine eyes water up and begin to pour over, matching the drizzle that has steadily been increasing in pressure. I am startled slightly by your response, and even more so when you lean your body forward, resting your small- but still bigger than mine- head over my own, chest heaving with sobs. For a life filled with only the harsh elements and sharp claws, this sudden 'embrace' was something completely alien.

But I don't pull away.

"I don't want you to die...!" Your voice is quivering and weak, like- again- a child. You _are _like a child in so many ways, stunted from growing from something- perhaps the universal hate in death, and thus, in you? "I'm so sick of people dying! I'm so sick of them leaving! I'm sick of all of it!" I am silent, but one gold and blue leg hesitantly reaches up to brush the sharp edges of that golden mask perched on your small face.The rain is steadying, surely, since my face is soaked.

But when I look up, there is no rain falling from the sky, which is for once clear.

And then I realize:

I'm _crying._

But that's stupid, spiders don't _cry. _

We don't know how it feels to have such emotions such as sorrow and love and happiness; all we know is the pain and anguish and suffering that life is. We take this and take and take it, never complaining to deaf ears, while continuing the work on our webs, never expecting anything better. I know that I merely live to show that I can, that I breath because I have the lungs to do so, that I weave because I still have the power to- not because I like to, or that I love to live, but just because I can.

"Don't let go yet... please." Your voice is pleading, and I can feel your trembling- like a leaf struggling against the torrents of time. Why do I feel the same? Why do I click my jaws in promise when I shouldn't? But I do, I do just because you ask.

"Very well."

* * *

Something is different.

You come early in the morning, not bothering to meld into the shadows, but instead crash through the trees like the first day we met, crushing vegetation underneath your six legs. There is a feeling of panic around you, as I can feel it in the vibrations that my web sends to me. I'm almost worried that you will rip my lines to shreds again as you come tumbling towards me again, eyes wide.

You stop, panting.

Perhaps I felt it, too, the steady changing in me, like someone is slowly pulling me against the ground with invisible threads. Spinning becomes an effort, breathing is a challenge and I stopped eating days ago. Something is ending...

And then you don't know what to do, and neither do I.

"I'm dying." I state simply, and your body deflates, wings drooping against your sides pathetically. As I say this one simple statement, it is like a trigger to my own body, as I then ease myself to the ground so that I can rest comfortably without fear of falling. You follow suit, as your own immense weight is rested against the cold, frozen ground between the naked twin trees. Your red eyes watch me anxiously, filled with so much innocence and pain and suffering at the same time, it makes me want to cry all over again.

"Don't be sad." I suddenly say, and the feelers of my abdomen twitch against the chilly breeze. "You'll see me again." My voice is gentle like I'm trying to coax you from a cliff. "And we'll talk..."

"And laugh..." You continue, seemingly mesmerized.

"And laugh." I agree, head lowering against the cold ground almost on its own. White crystals have begun to fall from the white sky, and this seems to speed up the tired ache that is seeping through my exoskeleton. "And you can teach me some jokes or something... give me a sense of humor..."

You smile, despite the fact that tears are rolling down your face and colliding with the snowy ground.

And, I am the same.

"And I'll teach you how to play the harp... once I learn myself... are there harps where I'm going?" This is the first time that I've acknowledged that I'm actually going anywhere, but you are not surprised. Only determined. As the white begins to collect around my cold body, you nod slowly, wings shuddering to free them of frozen water. "... That's good... that's really..." I trail off, as I have forgotten what I was going to say. You seem to realize this, as you move close and wrap your thick tail around me gently.

"...good..." You finish quietly.

"Yes... that's it..." Everything seems to be fading out now, and I can barely see you, a smudge against falling white, a shadow against all things pure. And while it should make sense, it doesn't. "... it'll be fun... will I be happy?"

You give a strangled sound that seems to be a mix of a sob and a laugh.

"Oh, god... yes, you will. And you'll never have to be in pain again... you won't have to do anything bad or see anything bad ever again..." You break off with another sob that wracks up your large body, and I swear I can hear your heart straining. "I promise." And, while that shouldn't mean a thing to me, it does.

It means a lot.

"B-before you go..." You mutter softly, "Can I ask you one more question?"

I barely manage to twitch my jaws in a nod, and I can't explain why my faltering heart jumps when your move your head closer to mine. Those childish/wise/deep/naive/weak/strong red eyes gaze into my glassy black pair, searching for something I can not label.

"Does death have any part in life?"

For just a second, everything stops.

Was that what had broken you? Was that the one question you had always wanted to have answered? Was that maybe why you sought my companionship?

No, it wasn't. Not all of it.

"Yes..." I mumble through numb eyes. "It has a very big part that no one understands."

You nod your head against mine, grip tightening like you never wanted to let go, or else be lost.Your voice is now less than a whisper, more like a thought that had escaped from the mind and wrapped against the wind, desperate, afraid, angry.

"I love you."

I don't know what love is.

But I wish I did.

You seem to understand, because you bury your face into my side and continue to sob, shoulders wracking with your cries of anguish.You seem to be stuck on this one phrase like you have to admit it to yourself, like you can't believe it.

"I love you..."

Maybe...

"I love you..."

I get...

"I love you..."

... it...

"I love you..."

But then I'm gone, and I can't feel you anymore.

* * *

A howl of pure anguish rips through the silence of Sendoff Spring.

* * *

But when we meet again, in a place like I could never imagine, I get it.

I get it a lot.

I love you.

And I mean it.

After all...

Spiders don't lie.

* * *

_**That was fun. It took a while, but it was fun. :D Well... SU out!**_


End file.
